Fullmetal Disney
by RoseblossomWarrior
Summary: Join the FMA cast in all of your favorite Disney movies. From Aladdin to Cinderella, and even Tangled to Toy Story! Don't be afraid to give any suggestions you might have. More details inside. Mostly crack and just for laughs. No update schedule yet.
1. Aladdin

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own FMA nor do I own Disney. I don't profit off this story in any way except for laughter._

* * *

Aladdin

"So you're telling me that I gotta go down into this ol' lion's mouth or whatever and bring you back that lamp?" Greed asked, resting his foot on the stiff, sandy lip of the giant lion's head that had come up out of the ground. He hadn't been that phased.

"That's right," the scrawny old man next to him said. "I got you outta that prison, and I'll give you another reward when you get back. Anyway, go straight in, and bring back _only the lamp. _If you touch _anything _else, you won't be able to come back out, and you'll be trapped inside forever."

Greed shrugged before he grinned. "I like a reward. Deal. I'll be back." He hopped up into the mouth of the cave and casually descended down the steep stairs.

The throat of the sand-lion narrowed, and it was several minutes before he came to the bottom of the stairs and found himself in a huge, glittering cavern, filled to the brim with piles of gold coins, diamonds, and other precious gemstones, not to mention priceless vases and other treasures. His eyes widened, and he whistled.

"Sure is some place," he commented, strolling along the only clear path. His mouth watered as he took it all in. If he had all this, he the only thing left to want would be the rest of the world, but surely even then this could pay for it.

_If all of this is in here, I wonder what kinda reward Pops'll give me when I get back out, _Greed thought. The old man had looked like a beggar, so Greed obviously had the inclination to think that he was gonna be duped. He'd grab some gold on the way out; the old man was probably senile anyways, so Greed didn't think much about his warning.

A small passageway led the way into a smaller cave, circular and cool and full of water. He followed the stepping stones into the middle of the lake, ascending some rough stairs to where a beam of light fell upon a tarnished, golden lamp. Greed frowned and picked it up by the handle. "Dull little thing, ain't it?" he muttered, stuffing the rounded part into his pocket so that the spout stuck out of his coat.

He headed back down the rough stairs and back across the stepping stones, but he stopped at the archway leading back into the main chamber. Three huge, shining rubies were inlaid into the top and both sides of the arch, and he grinned before reaching out to try and see if they were at all loose.

His fingers merely brushed one of the rubies when the whole cave started to shake. Panic entered Greed's entire being as he recalled the old man's warning—he may have wanted riches, but he couldn't have them if he was dead.

He sprinted through the archway and into the main chamber, finding that all of the gold and treasures were falling down all around him because of the tremors. He rushed through the room, trying to stick to the main path, which was rapidly becoming buried. He managed to get to the stairs, but they were so steep that he nearly had to climb them.

"Hurry, boy!" the old man called. Greed looked up to see a scrawny hand reaching out to him. "Give me the lamp!"

"Help me out of here, dumb-ass!" Greed screeched, slipping down a couple of steps because the sand around him was starting to move.

"Give me the lamp!"

Greed scowled when he realized that the man wasn't going to help him unless he tossed up the lamp.

What a jackass.

"You know what, Pops?" Greed called up. "You can have it when I see you in hell!"

The old man's face became enraged, but all Greed did was stick his tongue childishly out at him as the mouth of the cave closed quickly, burying the old man. Greed let out a pleased noise and let the loose sand take him down to the bottom of the cave. By now, the tremors had stopped, and Greed was just happy that he hadn't been completely surrounded and suffocated.

Sure, he was eventually going to die of starvation down here, but at least he had a whole bunch of gold to keep him company.

He walked back into the main chamber and sat down on a pile of gold coins. It wasn't entirely comfortable, but he'd never done this in his life, so he thought he might as well start now. He looked around at the large cavern, wondering if anything would be able to help him dig himself out (how hard was it to dig _upward, _anyway?) when he remembered the lamp in his pocket. He pulled it out and frowned at the dirty little thing.

"Wonder why that crazy old guy wanted you," he muttered. He began to rub the lamp, irritated at its dinginess, when something happened.

The lamp giggled.

He nearly dropped it. In any case, he stopped rubbing it for a moment, thinking he had become crazy, before he hesitantly began rubbing it again.

And once again, there was laughter.

He rubbed it some more, and then there was a voice.

"S-stop it! That tickles!"

"What the fuck are you?" Greed asked, rubbing the lamp even harder.

There was a puff of smoke, and out of the spout of the lamp grew a _person. _He slid out of the lamp with the smoke and grew until he was about the same size (and, thankfully, solid shape) as Greed. The person-or-whatever-it-was had black hair pulled into a ponytail, squinty eyes, and a stupid-looking grin. He wore a simple turban on his head, had no shirt, and wore baggy white pants and yellow shoes. There were metallic, gold bands on his wrists.

He was also sitting cross-legged while floating in midair.

"Don't speak so impolitely!" he said impishly, floating around so that he was turning upside-down. "It's not very nice!"

Greed stared at him. "What…"

"What am I? I'm glad you asked!" He righted himself (though he still didn't touch the ground) and extended his limbs excitedly. "I'm Ling the Genie! And boy, am I happy to be out of that lamp!" He stretched his arms and arched his back, spinning around in the air some more. "May I ask who you are, Master?"

"G-Greed…" Greed blinked stupidly. "A…genie?"

Ling actually opened his eyes in surprise. "You don't know what a genie is?"

Greed was slowly becoming used to this Ling guy. "'Fraid I don't."

There was a puff of smoke, and suddenly there was a chalkboard behind Ling—and Ling suddenly looked like a teacher. "A genie is a magic being that can grant its master three wishes." He spun the chalkboard, and when it stopped, a giant "3" had been emblazoned on it. "There are only three restrictions to what a genie can do, though, so listen up!"

Ling popped back into his regular outfit before spinning the chalkboard again. While that was going on, Greed asked, "So can I wish for more—?"

"Nope! That's rule number one!" The chalkboard finished spinning, and now it said "#1." "No wishing for more wishes. I can only give you three, exactly three."

Greed crossed his arms, rather pissed at the restriction. "Fine. What're the other two?"

Ling grinned but didn't bother with the chalkboard this time. He held out his hand and raised two abnormally giant fingers. "Two: I can't make anyone fall in love with you. I can make 'em infatuated with ya, but no love. Nope nope."

Greed didn't see the problem with that. He got laid on a fairly regular basis, anyway. "And the last one?"

There was another puff of smoke, and Ling was suddenly lying in the middle of the air, looking mummified. He raised his arms dramatically and sat up. "I can't…bring anyone back…from the _dead_," he said overdramatically. He popped back into his regular form. "My last Masters tried to do that even in a roundabout way, and let's just say that one wasn't able to _get some _for years!"

Greed winced in sympathy. "Poor guy."

"Eh. He got over it eventually. Should've seen his brother, though. Always had the chance to get some but was too stupid to take it."

Greed frowned in thought. He was really quite amazed that he'd been lucky enough to find something magical down here. Ling could help him get out of this hellhole and back to civilization and the Devil's Nest. However, Greed only had three wishes. He'd have to think carefully about what exactly he wanted most of all—and he also needed a way to maximize everything he got from this genie.

Ling grinned at him. He really looked like quite the idiot. "Well? Any ideas? Any first wish? Huh? Huh?! Come on! It's been a hundred years! I haven't done anything in _ages_!" He rolled around, flailing his arms. "I want to _eat_!"

Greed grinned slyly, but quickly adopted a more passive facial expression. "I do, too. And damn, I know a good place. What's your favorite food?"

"PASTAAAAAAAA!"

Greed was blown back a bit by the force of Ling's shout; he rubbed at his ear a little, hoping he hadn't gone deaf. "Well, I know a great pasta place back in the city. I'd bring a little of this gold and pay for us, but…"

Ling's eyes were wide open and full of deep longing. "But what?"

"We're kinda stuck here. So we can't have pasta."

"NO PASTA?!" Ling suddenly stood up straight and looked at Greed, a determined light in his narrowed eyes. "I'll get us outta here; don't you worry, Greed. I'll get us to the pasta."

And then he pulled a startled Greed into a tight embrace before the two rocketed off in a burst of sparks and smoke. Greed started screaming in fright, but Ling just laughed manically, singing in delight about pasta or something.

* * *

_a/n: I've been having slight block lately, and this came to mind today when I was listening to some Disney music on Pandora radio because I'm cool like that. Anyway, I dunno if I'll continue, but I sure do have ideas! Don't be afraid to suggest any Disney movies or scenes to do, and I don't mind if you suggest the characters, either (I just won't write anything AlMei, so please don't ask for that). _

_I dunno how often I'll update this, but I do know that this is a very fun idea and I hope I do have the time to add more to this. All chapters will not be related to each other unless otherwise stated, and the name of the movie the chapter is based on will be at the top. Please leave a review on your way out!_


	2. Mulan

Mulan

"Let's get down to business, men," Mustang ordered, marching in front of his line of half-assed recruits. Riza did her best to stand up straight, hoping that her bounded chest was flat enough to not be noticed.

"Heymans Breda! Twenty push-ups!"

There was a groan as the pudgy redhead dropped to the ground. "Why was I a fool in school for cutting gym...?"

Beside Riza, Vato Falman muttered obscenities under his breath. "We're supposed to have a water challenge later... I really wish that I knew how to swim."

Jean Havoc scoffed. "Be a man, Falman."

The teeny Black Hayate nuzzled his owner's ear. "This guy's got 'em all scared to death," he said, referring to Colonel Roy Mustang.

"Hope he doesn't see right through me," Riza replied. She couldn't afford to go back home.

"Did you just say something, Ryan?" Kain Fuery asked her.

"Private Hawkeye!" Mustang barked before Riza could speak. "Get out here now."

Riza gulped nervously as Black Hayate withdrew into the folds of her clothes. She marched out of the line to stand before Mustang; she saluted to him.

Mustang narrows his cold, black eyes at her. He pointed to the stand several paces away where a gun lay. "Take aim at the target downfield and fire."

Riza nodded and went over to pick up the gun. She knew how it worked, but she'd never held one in her entire life. She cocked the rifle and put the butt of the gun up to her shoulder, arming the barrel down the field at the man-shaped paper target. Her hands shook as she anticipated the sound and kick of the gun. She heard Mustang let out a low hum of disapproval.

She pulled the trigger.

She was unprepared for the kick and ended up falling on her butt; there were several startled screams, and she suddenly feared that she'd shot someone. She let go of the gun and looked to see Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes standing with wide eyes off to the side; his cowlick had been shot off.

Mustang sighed and put his hand over his face. "We've got a long way to go..."

()()()()()

Several weeks passed. Every second was exhausting—even when sleeping—but with each passing day, the recruits grew in skill. Breda got a bit thinner, Falman was able to swim a few strokes, Havoc had gotten in touch with his feminine side at one point (don't ask), and Fuery had managed to keep himself from "getting injured" and having to take sick leave. Riza spent most of her training time with them, but she didn't talk to them much; she was nervous about being found out.

Whenever they weren't training or sleeping or eating, Riza went down to the firing range. At first, she was nervous about holding a pistol, but she forced herself to shoot. After a few days, she fell into the habit of inserting a clip into the gun and shooting at a target; her aim was god-awful at first, but she'd always had sharp eyes—all she needed was a steady hand.

()()()()()

Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes had taken to getting up early. Neither really liked it, but it couldn't be helped-they had duties to take care of.

"How about we go to the range before we get started today?" Hughes suggested as the two walked out of their barracks. He jotted down a quick note on his clipboard.

"I think that's a good idea," Mustang said. He yawned widely. Shooting at something would wake him up.

They walked into the range and decided to use a couple of rifles. They collected the guns and walked into the back room where the shooting range was, only to be surprised that it was already being used.

"What are you doing here so early, Private?" Mustang asked loudly, still a little glazed over with tiredness.

The recruit noticed them and took off his protective headphones and turned to salute his superiors. "Sirs."

Mustang recognized the short blonde hair and brown eyes; this was that guy who'd shot off Hughes's cowlick. Ricky Hawkings or something, right? "What're you doing here, Private?"

"Just target practice, sir. What does it look like?"

The smart remark made Mustang's eye twitch. "Well I'm sure you haven't gotten any better than last time I saw you. What's your name, anyway?"

The recruit frowned and relaxed from his salute. He then pointed the gun at Mustang and fired.

Mustang's hairs stood on end; the bullet had hit the wall right beside his head.

"I have gotten better, sir. And it's Ryan Hawkeye." He saluted once more. "Please excuse me, sirs." Then he left.

Mustang stood frozen, watching the private leave.

Hughes suddenly grinned and elbowed Mustang. "Does Roy-boy want a boy-toy?"

Mustang rounded on his subordinate. _"Shut up, Hughes!"_

The Lieutenant Colonel only grinned.


	3. Tangled

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own FMA, nor do I own Disney. The original idea for a Tangled crossover came from misguidedgost77 (we talked about doing this ages ago. Whoops). Special thanks goes out to Melon Fuhrer, who gave me some more ideas and a bunch of help and encouragement. Thanks, guys!_

* * *

Tangled

As usual, Winry Rockbell was having one hell of a day.

"Stop! Thief!" the soldiers behind her called out as they chased her through the forest. Winry rolled her eyes and wished they would come up with something more original to say.

She ducked into the undergrowth, using her lean frame to her advantage, and the bulky-suited soldiers had to hack away at the foliage. She grinned, actually cackling a little, and hurried on.

"NEIGHHHHH! (_Get your ass back here, you peasant!_)" cried a horse, and Winry looked back to see a black mustang pursuing her. She pumped her legs faster, dashing around a tree, but tripped over a root—a stupid, rookie mistake. She plummeted forward and closed her eyes, bracing herself for some sort of colossal impact, but she merely fell through a curtain of ivy and landed on soft grass in some sort of cave. She hurried to the back wall, watching the foliage as she did so. The shadow of the mustang paused at the curtain, sniffing, but then the animal snorted and continued on.

After a few moments, Winry let out a sigh of relief and stood up, though she was careful not to hit her head on the ceiling. She made sure that she still had the gold crown in her satchel, then studied her surroundings, seeing that the cave was actually a tunnel. She followed the tunnel, not wanting to go back out into the woods lest the soldiers were still around, and emerged into a huge, hidden valley, with high rock walls and a cascading waterfall. However, even this great sight was nothing compared to the tower that stood out in the middle of the area.

Winry's blue eyes widened with awe. Her fingers started twitching—she needed to see what was in there, see what sorts of treasures were hidden in the tower. She hurried to the base of the formation, searching for some sort of door, but no such object presented itself to her.

"Some tower this is," she huffed, looking upward. She squinted and noticed a large, open window facing the west, and she grinned before she began looking for footholds in the stone. The climb was a bit tricky, but Winry was more than able to handle it, and soon she was peering into the dark interior of the tower.

"Guess no one's home," she muttered, tiptoeing into the room, but then something collided with the back of her head and she slumped to the floor, unconscious.

There was a frenzied squeaking noise, and a small chameleon scurried next to the girl's face, trying to check if she was okay.

"Get away from her, Alphonse," a boy barked, and the chameleon gave him quite the dirty look before turning back to the girl.

The boy, brandishing a frying pan, scowled and emerged into the light. He wore rather odd black clothes and a red cloak, but his defining features were his golden eyes and his seventy feet of braided golden hair—a sprig of which sprung up from his bangs. He glared with distrust at the unknown girl—he thought it was a girl, at least (Father Gothel had warned him about their alluring figures). He remembered something else his father had warned him about, and he carefully used his frying pan to move the girl's lip so he could check for pointed teeth, but he saw nothing of the sort.

He frowned.

Though Alphonse started squeaking in protest, the boy bent down and grabbed the girl's satchel. He stood up straight and began to rifle through it, but there was only one thing inside: a golden crown.

The boy frowned once more and turned the object over in his hands, studying the intricate detail and the inlaid jewels. Just for the hell of it, he put it on his head and looked to the mirror.

It fit perfectly.

()()()()()

Winry groaned a little as she came to. Her head hurt a lot. She tried to put a hand to her temple, but she couldn't move.

Her eyes flashed open, and she saw that she had been strapped to a chair. Strapped with braided, golden hair.

She started struggling against her bonds. "What the—? Let me go!"

"Meet my demands, and I _might_," someone said from the shadows, and she thought it sounded like a boy.

She scowled. "I'm not doing it with someone I haven't even seen, asshole, and certainly not with someone who's tied me up with _hair_."

"… 'It'?" The boy came a little closer, and she was able to make out his outline. He sounded genuinely confused.

Winry raised an eyebrow. "…I won't comment on that." Suddenly a thought crossed her mind, and she began searching frantically, as best as she could. "Where's my satchel?!"

"I hid it," the boy said. "Meet my demands, and you can have it back and you can go free."

Winry frowned and looked around. "It's in that pot, isn't it?"

He paused.

The frying pan was the last thing she saw before she blacked out again.

()()()()()

(Magical time skip.)

()()()()()

Edward looked with distrust at the door. "...I'm not going in there."

Winry rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. "Come on, Blondie. It's just a tavern. Aren't you hungry?"

He wished she would stop calling him that, especially since she was blonde, too. "Well..." Ed glanced at Alphonse, and his stomach growled. "...Okay."

"Good." Winry opened the worn wooden door and motioned for Ed to go inside. The boy nervously gathered up his braided hair and went inside.

The room was full of boisterous men. Most were rather huge, and all were rather smelly. The scent of alcohol hung in the air, and Edward noticed one little old man staggering around as drunk as a skunk.

"YOKI!" someone shouted, and the drunk man stumbled some more and looked around as said someone came up to him and said, "Scar's looking for you. You know he can't call for you. Don't get drunk and wander off."

The drunkard, Yoki, shrugged and smiled; his flushed cheeks shined in the light. Then he promptly spun on his heel—stumbling a little—and wandered back into the crowd. The man sighed.

"Careful there, Blondie," Winry said, pulling Ed away from a rather scary-looking man. "Bump into someone here and it might turn out to be like dropping the soap."

Ed didn't understand, but looked nervous anyway and stuck close to Winry.

The girl walked over to the bartender. "My good sir," she said importantly, "two venison steaks to go."

The bartender raised an eyebrow, then froze. His gaze flickered from Winry's face to the wall, and Ed glanced over to see that the space next to the window was plastered with a few black-and-white posters labeled "WANTED." Winry's face was on each one, but none of the drawings got her nose just right.

"GUYS," the bartender suddenly barked. "IT'S THE FUGITIVE THEY'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR!"

Winry froze, but before she could get her bearings and start for the door or a window, several pairs of hands grabbed her by the arms and legs and pulled her out into the crowd.

"H-hey, hey, guys!" Winry called, her voice quavering as the men fought over who had seen her first and therefore who would get the bounty. "I-I'm not who you're looking for! Honest!"

Edward watched for a moment, frightened, and Alphonse tugged violently on his hair. The boy yelled a little at the pain and gave Al a dirty look, but the chameleon gestured frantically at the scene, and Ed suddenly realized just what was happening.

"Wait!" he called, but no one heard him. He started flailing his frying pan at the edge of the group, but none of his hits made any real impact on the men—most had some sort of armor on. He managed to get the attention of one guy, though.

The man glared back at him. "Get outta here, midget."

Now, Edward had never been called such a thing in his entire life—being stuck in a tower for that entire time kinda left a person out of a lot of things—but for some reason, the insult cut deep into his soul and his pride. His golden eyes lit up like fire, and he leapt onto a nearby table.

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE CAN'T EVEN SAVE THE GIRL WHO'S SUPPOSED TO TAKE HIM TO SEE THE FLOATING LANTERNS, THUS FULFILLING HIS LIFELONG GOAL OF SEEING THE FLOATING LANTERNS ON HIS _BIRTHDAY_, FOR GOODNESS'S SAKE! PUT HER _DOWN_! _HAVEN'T ANY OF YOU EVER HAD A DREAM?!_"

The men's' loud argument hushed, and heads turned toward Ed. The boy's chest was heaving as he fought to regain his breath. His face was flushed an angry red that matched his coat, and his fingers kept his frying pan in a tight grip. Winry, her skin plastered with a nervous sweat, watched with wide eyes. She was held completely off the ground.

A silence stretched out for several moments.

"Did he say the floating lanterns?" someone asked. Ed wasn't sure who said it.

"Those're pretty," someone added.

"...I used to go every year..."

One of the men, a tall, muscular figure with a straight black moustache and a patch over his eye, walked through the crowd toward Ed. As he moved, the man unsheathed a sword from a scabbard and held it aloft. Even with his added height, Ed was pretty much only _just _able to keep himself from wetting his pants. He scurried down and backed away from the man, but was forced to stop when he backed into the bar. The man kept moving, and soon towered above him. His one eye glinted red.

Then he shifted, and he looked like he was about to cry. "I had a dream, once."

He tossed his sword, and the blade became embedded into the wall.

The man stood up straight, still looking rather sad. He extended his hand. "My name is King Bradley."

"Uh...Edward." The boy's golden gaze flickered from Bradley's hand to his face—specifically his eye patch—and back again. He hesitantly took Bradley's hand, and the man helped him to stand up straight.

"Come with me," Bradley said, but he didn't give Ed much choice—he dragged the boy to a small stage, where a piano stood.

"We all have dreams, kid," he said, taking a seat on the bench. He played a scale, then closed his eyes as if he found some sort of beautiful relief in the sound. "I always wanted to be a concert pianist. I mean..." He played more scales, his fingers moving quickly over the ivory. "I've always wanted to perform Mozart, or, ah, write show tunes." He smiled. "Yeah. We've all got dreams."

A man came up from the audience, looking a little starry-eyed. "I, uh, get what you guys are saying," he said, running a hand through his short blond hair. He held out his hand to Ed, who reluctantly took it. "Name's Havoc. My dream... Well, I've always wanted to make a love connection."

Ed quickly pulled his hand away.

Havoc didn't seem to notice. He wrapped an arm around Ed as Bradley continued to play a light, catchy tune. He pointed into the crowd. "Brosh over there would like to quit and be a florist. Falman does interior design."

The first man blushed and pulled the flower out of his hair. The second man didn't notice them; he was too busy rearranging the chairs.

Havoc kept pointing at random people. "Scar is into mime, and Armstrong's cupcakes are sublime."

A tall, tan man with white face paint and red eyes was currently throwing an invisible rope at the drunkard from earlier—Yoki. He tried to pull him, but Yoki wasn't really having any of that. Nearby, a huge, _huge _man with a multitude of muscles was carrying a tray of pink, sparkly cupcakes around the room.

"Breda knits." A redheaded, potbellied man sat in the corner, working on a scarf. "Kimblee sews." A white-suited man frowned as he worked with a needle and thread to fix his hat. "And Kain does little puppet shows!" A short, spiky-haired man with spectacles was smiling as he used socks on his hands to talk with a dog, which looked like it wanted to eat said puppets.

"And finally," Havoc said, dragging Edward across the stage to where a massive bear of a man sat at a small table. "Buccaneer collects ceramic unicorns."

The mohawked man smiled lightly and made two tiny unicorns touch muzzles.

"Um... That's really...cool," Ed said lamely, unsure whether or not he should be impressed. He'd spent roughly eighteen years locked in a tower, after all, so it wasn't like he had the social skills to really know the norm.

"...This is cool and all," Winry called out, "but can you guys let me down now? Like Blondie said, we gotta get going."

Bradley abruptly stopped playing and stood. He glared out at Winry. "You. Tell us what your dream is."

Winry blinked her big blue eyes.

"Yeah," Havoc called. "Tell us!"

The men that were holding Winry rushed to put her on the stage. She stumbled a little, then looked out over the audience and flushed. "I'm not really—"

"Tell us," Bradley barked, and she flinched.

"W-well," she said, nervously poking her fingers together. "I, uh, want to own an automail shop. But on an island. Surrounded by enormous piles of money. All alone."

No one spoke for a moment.

Scar, the silent mime, looked over at her. "That dream sucks."


End file.
